


penance

by singmyheart



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8113852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singmyheart/pseuds/singmyheart
Summary: She knows all too well Alexander’s facility with words; his ability to persuade, flatter, seduce with them alone. She wonders idly if the intended recipient of this letter has a resolve stronger than hers.





	

 

 

“Stay still,” Alexander chides. There’s no heat in it, even a curl of amusement at the edge.

She stills even as he moves; shifts his weight on the mattress, the light pressure of his hand leaving her back for just a moment. She can’t see him like this, but knows he must be rotating his wrist to work the tension out. For a while, it’s almost peaceful: his steady breathing, the rasp of his pen and soft crinkle of the page against her back. Angelica doesn’t know what he’s writing, or to whom, but she imagines she can feel the words taking shape, if she concentrates. She knows all too well Alexander’s facility with words; his ability to persuade, flatter, seduce with them alone. She wonders idly if the intended recipient of this letter has a resolve stronger than hers.

“You’re quiet,” he observes.

“So are you,” she points out. He hums and the movement of his pen resumes; Angelica rests her chin on her folded arms and tries not to fidget. Considers how this letter will carry traces of her, the salt of her skin still flushed from their exertions. The latest secret in a series of many, latest thing left unspoken. They understand each other implicitly; so much of this - whatever it is - between the two of them is conducted in the spaces between the penstrokes, as much in these brief silences as their constant conversation. 

Finally Alexander scrawls his signature at the bottom of the page, just above the small of her back. When he’s safely removed letter and pen from the bed she rolls over, examines him. She thinks, not for the first time, that he’s a collection of features that belong on a dozen different bodies, but that taken together lend him beauty. His mouth, she knew before anything else - that first touch of his lips to the back of her hand, all those years ago. The way he introduced himself, said his name as though she should already have known it. His hands, calloused and clever, the near-permanent indent on the left index finger from his pen, endlessly writing. His eyes, those lovely dark eyes teasing and unfathomable, the same ones he’s giving her now as he settles again between her thighs, the question in the arch of his brow. She thinks, inevitably, of hearts: Eliza’s, which Alexander had broken a thousand times over even before they crossed this particular line. His own, wild and selfish and eternally unsatisfied, this hurricane of a man who will ruin her, too, in time. Already has. He’s the only one who understands, the only man she’s ever known who shares even a fraction of her ceaseless, ravening hunger. He understands her, and she him, and it’s terrifying. 

And his keen mouth is on her, now; as ever, taking, questing, starving, expecting still to be deprived of any scrap of goodness at a moment’s notice. He murmurs her name,  _ Angelica, Angelica,  _ low and wanting. That clever tongue darts out to taste and she closes her eyes. Winds her fingers into his dark hair and wills her mind for once to quiet. 

**Author's Note:**

> [I do not write to him, because I take so much pleasure in it, that I ought to do penance.](http://schuylering.tumblr.com/post/146582686758/angelica-church-to-elizabeth-hamilton-1791)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [on tumblr. come say hi.](http://www.youbuiltcathedrals.tumblr.com)


End file.
